


all this weight is killing me

by runawaygang



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: M/M, Pining, Self-Hatred, also agatha is only briefly mentioned but whatevs, kind of?? idk im a rookie here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:56:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygang/pseuds/runawaygang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz doesn't exactly do too well with coming to terms with what he is. He'd rather run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all this weight is killing me

He shouldn't be this. He knows that much is true, always has been true. Always will be. 

There are many things a Pitch should never be, a few of those things being vampiric and emotional. Queer as a nighttime sun. 

Which is exactly what he's working with right now, isn't it? Baz glances over at Snow, tousled curls, a map of moles and sunshine, a scared destiny. Something that's set in stone. Something too bright to dwell on his tragedy. 

Or maybe he does, Baz doesn't know. He - Snow - always claims to hate it all, the attention, the weight on his shoulders, the 'burden,' as he refers to it. Maybe that's true. Maybe that's just another thing Baz will never know for sure. (He's pretty damn sure he loves it, though.) 

But, at the end of the day, the only ones that'd really know how Snow feels about his fate are Bunce and... Wellbelove. 

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Pitch." 

He shakes his head, sighing at the memory of that fucking conversation. He'd been in the Catacombs again, and honestly, if anyone, he expected Snow to pop up out of fucking nowhere, which would still be a bloody annoyance, but at least if it'd been Snow, he would've avoided that train wreck of emotions. Baz can hear his father's voice, deep and cracked and rusty, but smooth, "You've royally fucked up again, Basilton. You know just what to avoid." Not that he'd ever say as much so outrightly; he always tries to disguise his distaste for Baz's... well, everything, at least a little bit. Not entirely, though, as he still needs to get his point across. Not that Baz wouldn't understand anyway. He always understands what he's being told when his father says things like, "Are you sure about... this? Perhaps you just haven't given yourself time to find the right girl, yet, Basilton." He understands perfectly well. 

Over on his side of the room, with limbs hanging out of the blanket his chest is wrapped in, Snow rolls over onto his other side, so that he's facing away from Baz's bed. Naturally. Just one less comforting thing for him to get. Baz doesn't know when Simon bloody Snow became comforting to him, when he started watching him sleep when he couldn't do the same, but here he is. Here he is, wishing to chase away the nightmares he knows disrupt Snow's only real hours of peace. He kind of wishes he could chase away anything that might even present a threat for harm, to keep Snow from anything that doesn't make him laugh delightedly, like Baz sees him do around Bunce. Bunce and Wellbelove...

He can hear it crystal clear in his head. 'Again with the jealousy, Baz? Do I need to remind you again?' 

Baz always thought he played his part well; he rarely even shows emotion around Dev and Niall, or, well, anyone. The most Simon Snow has ever gotten out of him is anger, pettiness, bitterness. Frustration. As far as he knows, anyway. 

Naturally, it all caught up with him, and Penelope Bunce was obviously due to walk in on something as ridiculous as a sobbing Baz, muttering apology after apology to his father, to himself. 

To his mother. That was when he really broke. That was also exactly when Bunce came waltzing in. Baz thought Snow was following him around like a lost puppy again, trying to catch... something. "What, Snow? What is it I'm up to? I'd love to know," he said once, when Snow found him in the Catacombs. Snow had just growled, stared Baz down for a minute, and gone back to their room. Baz was surprised he left so easily. He was probably just tired from following him around all the bloody time, though. Snow is nothing if not annoyingly persistent. 

Baz was on his knees, curled into himself, trying not to cry. Trying not to feel anything at all. He was apologizing to Mother, after having fed, which then turned into thinking about everything he is that would disappoint her - everything he is that would surpass disappointment. 

"I never meant to..." His voice cracked, his lungs, his chest. He was so ruined. Still am, he thinks bitterly, breaking his memory for a moment. 

"Basil?" Bunce had whispered. Her eyes were wide, stretched into confusion and suspicion. It felt wrong, having that look directed at him. It was a look he was so accustomed to, on Snow. On Bunce, it made him feel see-through. Transparent. 

Crowley. 

Baz's head whipped up, then immediately dropped again. He contemplated clearing his throat, but that would've felt humiliating, would've felt like too much to be seen by someone else. 

He ended up doing it anyway, still staring at the ground. "Bunce," he said. 

She stepped closer, slowly, but oddly surely. "Basil... Baz. What is this?" Her face was hard, certain. Oh, Crowley, Bunce was always hard to deter, but Baz knew that he was done for, in that moment. She was about to tear in. 

"What? The Catacombs? Don't be daft, Bunce, you've seen them a hundred times." His voice was icy. He'd managed to clear his face of everything, of anything at all. 

Bunce wasn't up for resistance. "Cut it, Baz. What specifically is this about?" She gestured over to Baz's specific direction. 

Baz glared up at her. He felt silly, petulant, childlike, doing so while sitting, so he got to his feet, dusting off his hands on his trousers. "Listen, Bunce. This never happened. I wasn't here. Or you weren't, whichever you prefer. This is over, now." 

He started walking back to his and Simon's room when she said it, when she had to go and make it real. "I know you love him," she called after Baz. 

He stopped in his tracks. Contemplated going back. Then kept walking. 

She just caught up to him. 

"Are you gonna say anything, Basil?" She had the nerve to look annoyed, as if she was just the one to hear her enemy's best friend verbalize one of her biggest secrets. One of her most damning secrets. 

Baz stopped walking and ran his hands through his hair. "What the fuck exactly are you looking for from me, Bunce? Something to gawk at? Confirmation for your stupid theory?" There was more, so much more that was ready to burst from him, from the well of secrets he'd created that lay secretly in his chest, that he had to keep locked down. Nobody was going to get to them, especially not Penelope Bunce. 

Penelope made a face at him, one he couldn't read. "Is this some kind of, 'I love him and he's in love with somebody else, but even if he weren't with her he'd think I'm a monster' type of thing? Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Pitch. And him and Agatha..." 

"I don't bloody care about Snow and Wellbelove! Don't - you don't know as much as you think, Bunce. Just let me fucking leave and stop being insufferable, if you don't mind," Baz growled.  
"I don't need to be bloody analyzed." 

Penelope's face softened, her eyes brightening while simultaneously looking so dim. "You're not a monster, Baz. You don't know as much as you think." 

"Bunce," he growled. Finally, she let up, and watched sadly as he stalked away. 

Jealousy doesn't look good on you. What about his other areas of disappointment? How do they look on him? 

Snow rolls over again, onto his stomach, this time, and Baz wonders what'd he'd do, what exactly he'd say, if he knew the truth. Whether or not he'd even wait any longer to kill Baz. He'd probably just do it right on the spot. 

And Baz would let him. Because that's another person he loves too much, another person who'd want nothing to do with him if he knew the truth. Not that he doesn't already want nothing to do with him. Not that he isn't already destined to kill him. 

Ever since that night with Bunce, Baz doesn't linger when he goes to the Catacombs. He leaves, hunts, then returns to watch Snow sleep. Because he's a regular Edward bloody Cullen, apparently. And because she knows, and Baz doesn't think he could face an unexpected Penelope again and get away as he had the last time. The next time, she'd put up more of a fight. Probably try to make him say the words aloud. 

So instead he watches Simon Snow sleep, knowing that one day, his nighttime sun will burn him all the way through, finish him off for good. Because Baz is a monster, despite what Bunce said the other night, and he's not the one destined to be great. Simon is. Even without the precious prophecy, Simon Snow would still burn so bright, whereas Baz would still just be a monster. Even with the prophecy, that's all he really is. A monster that's destined to fall. 

Baz watches Simon sleep and wonders which of his areas of failure his mother would hate the most. 

/// 

Abruptly, Snow stirs, sitting up in his bed, trying to blink away confusion. "Baz? What are you staring at?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and the peace he got once he chased his nightmares away. (Baz wants to chase them all away, every single one. He's probably in some of them. Crowley.) 

(Maybe, because Baz is selfish, he wouldn't chase all of them away. He wants to haunt Snow with as much of himself as he can. Because he's selfishly disturbed.) 

Because he's an actor, Baz sneers and says, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." 

But he's looking at everything. Absolutely everything.

**Author's Note:**

> ya hello this is my first fic to ever be posted on here so. ya kno. be gentle w this fragile child 
> 
> anyway feel free to follow me on tumblr @ escapismkink if ya like thank ya very much folks


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